Sincerely Yours
by thelittlestcrane
Summary: The Angel Gene – an unexplained anomaly allowing children to be born with special skills and angel-like wings. The military wants to weaponize them, Bruce Wayne wants to protect them. Dick Grayson just wants to survive babysitting one. - DickDami, JayTim. (3/?).
1. First Impressions Always Last

The front lobby of the building is bustling with men and women in white, all focused on getting to their various destinations as soon as possible. Few people wear colors (the receptionists and a few passing people that look around his age), which makes Dick feel slightly on edge considering his own blue sweater and black jeans.

He makes it to the front desk without causing any collisions, one hand clutching the manila folder with all the necessary paperwork. The receptionist closest to him is on the phone, and she holds up one finger when he approaches, jotting notes down on a piece of notepaper. Dick glances over the ledge of the desk, discretely peeking at her scribbles. Everything is written in numbers, and Dick frowns, wondering if that's some kind of code he'll have to learn.

He waits patiently for about five minutes before he starts getting bored. Dick glances around the lobby, taking in the minimalistic design. The floors are made of some gray stone, echoing the click of heels and dress shoes throughout the room. The walls are painted an off-white color, the occasional picture hanging for decoration. The images depicted are largely biblical, in Dick's opinion. Pale people in white robes with large white wings extending from their back.

"Yes, thank you. We'll send someone out to do a preliminary report this afternoon. Mm. Yes, you too. Goodbye."

Dick looks back to the receptionist who is hanging up the phone. She sighs, rolling her shoulders and pushing blonde hair over her shoulder, "Sorry about that. Can I help you?"

"Ah, hi," Dick leans on the ledge, glancing down at the simple nametag pinned on the girl's shirt, "Courtney. I'm actually here to meet with Bruce Wayne? It's my first day on the job."

Courtney's eyes fill with recognition, "You're the new guy?" She sits back in her chair with a sly smile, "We've heard a lot about _you_, Mr. Grayson. What's an esteemed member of the secret service doing at this thankless job, hm?"

Dick manages a smile, "Former member, as it is. I needed a change of scenery. But I, ah, don't want to be late, so." He lifts the folder slightly.

"Right." Courtney nods, "One sec." She picks up the phone and presses down a solid white button, holding it while she speaks, "Hey, detail? I'm sending back the new recruit. Don't give him any trouble," She winks at Dick, releasing the button and setting the phone in the cradle. "Alright, you can head back," She points down the hall to the left of the desk, "Big white door. Can't miss it. You'll need to have your pass with you, which should be in the folder, and they'll take you to Mr. Wayne's office."

"Thanks." Dick leans back, pausing, "Is he as cold as everyone says?"

"Well…putting it lightly, he's much more intense than he is on television." Courtney smiles, "But I'm sure you've dealt with worse. Good luck, though."

"Thanks." Dick walks away from the desk, heading for the hallway she'd pointed out. He lets out a sigh, muttering to himself, "I might need it."

:::

Courtney wasn't lying. Bruce Wayne is…_intense_.

Dick has met many important people in his life, especially regarding his previous line of work, but none had the aura that Wayne has. He's charismatic and cold all at once. From what Dick has been able to observe since he entered the office, he's much bigger than the screen portrays. He's wearing a simple suit, but his arms seem to be testing the limits of the fabric, hinting that his build runs more fighter than researcher.

Dick knows little of the man himself besides what he's seen through interviews. He knows the man founded the Institute for Genetic Anomaly, the flip-side of the program run by the military (Dick can only hope the Institute is a better alternative). He knows the man has performed more than a few background checks on him, and he knows he owes being hired to him. Other than that, Bruce Wayne is an enigma.

"Are you aware of why I hired you, Richard?"

Dick blinks, shifting in the comfortable chair Bruce had insisted upon. "Well, I assumed you needed more security for the building."

"Your security background _is_ why you got the position," Bruce says, paging through Dick's files on his desk, "but that isn't what I need you here for. Not _building_ security, anyway."

"…then what am I supposed to be doing?" Dick blinks. He's never done anything aside from that; from the minimum police work before he had his stint in the SS, and look how well _that_ turned out for him. Honestly, he had been hoping this would be a simple security guard post.

"You are aware, no doubt, what Genetic Anomaly refers to?"

"Yeah, those kids all born with the Angel Virus." Dick shakes his head, "I mean the Angel Gene. The military has their own faction for them. I…can't say it's extremely ethical, but nobody seems to _care_."

"Precisely. That is entirely the reason I founded this Institute. Many people would see these children locked away for their differences, put to work as weapons. The government cannot touch this Institute; therefore the children brought here are safe. Still, some require…more looking after than others. That's where you come in."

"You want me to guard the kids?"

"_One_ 'kid' in particular," Bruce corrects, "The children are split into divisions based on power level. The AG, the Angel Generation, have more than just physical anomalies. They are gifted mentally as well. Most are geniuses or above, and many have abilities otherwise thought of as supernatural. The strongest are put into a class we call Class Zero. Each of them require a personal guard, and the previous one…did not hold up to my expectations. You are here to take over his position."

"…and what was his position?"

Bruce stands, coming around the desk. He straightens his jacket and smooths down his tie, "Walk with me."

Dick frowns as Bruce continues to the door of his office. He gets out of the seat, following a few paces behind, but close enough to hear.

"There are only three we consider Class Zero. They are put on a strict schedule so they can attempt to control their abilities as fast as possible. We believe in giving them their freedom, Richard, but they cannot leave the building for fear of the government possessing them and they are, simply put, dangerous. They do not intend to be, but it is what it is. As a guard, you will make sure they maintain their schedule from morning until the dinner period, after which they have free time and you are free to leave for the day. You will always carry a gun on you, which will be provided later. You will always carry a communicator and a PDA that monitors your charges' vitals. You will always report to the lab if your charge is called for testing."

"What kind of testing?"

"Educational, mostly. Class Zero prefers to test their abilities on each other rather than for the doctors here."

"Scientists, you mean."

Bruce doesn't comment on that, "Unfortunately, your charge will be the liveliest of the bunch. Well, not liveliest. Most temperamental. He is brash, rude, mostly inconsiderate of people, lacking in empathy, and tactless."

"He…sounds like a handful." Dick says carefully, pausing as Bruce reaches elevator doors. He presses the down arrow, stepping in when the doors open. Dick follows, glancing at the button Bruce presses for the floor. A-0.

"He is." Bruce sighs, "He can be quite the little demon. You will have your work cut out for you."

Dick thinks on that as the elevator descends. He's always been good with kids, so it might turn out alright. "How old is he?"

"Teenaged." Bruce replies vaguely. "Though he rarely acts it. He's very mature for his age, linguistically speaking. Temper-wise, he's more of a toddler, I'd say."

The elevator comes to a stop, and Bruce steps out. They're at the beginning of a long, white hallway. A long, white, trashed hallway. Feathers are scattered over the floor, along with books, video game cases, DVD cases, compact discs, snacks, and from what Dick can tell, clothes.

Bruce sighs. "This is Zero level, otherwise known as the Nest. One door for each bedroom, one for the rec room, one for the kitchen, and two for the bathrooms. The brown door at the end is for the guards when they need a break," Bruce glances back at him, "And you _will_ need one."

"It looks like a college dorm." Dick snorts, momentarily forgetting himself.

"I suppose it is, in a way. Your charge is the youngest. The oldest is…just eighteen this year."

As Bruce walks down the hallway, Dick glances at the signs fastened to the closed doors. _Kitchen. Recreation. Timothy. Stephanie_. Bruce comes to a stop at the end of the hall, turning to the last white door. _Damian_.

"There's one more thing you should know about him before you meet him." Bruce says suddenly, as if just remembering, "With the others, be careful about what you say. They don't like talking about their parentage. Damian doesn't have that problem, but it's sure to inspire an argument you can't win."

"Why is that?"

"-_tt_-"

They both turn at the sudden noise, and standing behind them is a boy, leaning against the doorframe of the now-open door to the rec room. Dressed in all white, his dark skin tone stands out starkly against the backdrop. He has narrowed blue eyes and a shock of black hair with a distinctly foreign look to the shape of his eyes and bone-structure.

What catches Dick's eye, besides the lack of shoes, is his wingspan. Normally, children with the Angel Gene have small wings, not remotely suitable for flight. This boy, though, has large wings. Even though they are folded in a resting arch, the very tips reach below his knees and the tops stretch above the boy's head. They're pure white, and if Dick had time to stare long enough, he's see they are whiter than the walls.

"Hello, Damian." Bruce sighs, "This is Richard. Starting tomorrow, he'll be your keeper."

Dick blinks at the terminology as the boy scowls. "I don't _need_ a _keeper_."

"It's not up for discussion."

The boy makes the small noise that had first caught their attention, tilting his head to study Dick. "He looks weak."

"He was part of the secret service, Damian. And we've talked about you demeaning everyone you meet, have we not?"

Damian shrugs, wings fluttering with the movement. "I don't remember." He replies smoothly. He spares Dick one last glance before disappearing back into the rec room, wings barely clear of the door before it slams shut.

Bruce closes his eyes briefly, as is staving off a migraine. "_That_ is Damian."

Dick raises his eyebrows, "You never got to answer my question."

"Ah. Yes. Well, Damian hasn't had the unfortunate experience of parents that didn't want him. If anything, it's the opposite (his voice drops to mutter something like 'considering his _mother'_ before he barrels on). Damian is _my_ son." Bruce clears his throat. "Shall we finish the tour?"

"…son?"

Bruce nods, turning and walking back to the elevator doors. Dick has to jog to catch up to him. Dick wants to ask. He really does. Bruce clears his throat again, scattering his throat process. "So, do you think you'll be able to handle him?"

Dick hesitates in answering. By chance, he glances behind him in time to catch what looks like a dark head of hair quickly disappearing from view. The door to the rec room is open once more, and Dick can see dark fingers grasping the door frame and the hint of a wing peeking over the threshold. For some reason, it's a little endearing that the boy is watching them.

Dick turns back to Bruce, "I've handled worse."


	2. The Learning Curve

Dick walks into the building bright and early, with slightly more confidence than he had the previous day. The lobby is less crowded than before, most people heading straight for the hall beyond the desk or the stairs on the other side.

Dick makes to follow the crowd moving towards the hallway when he hears his name called. He turns, eyes picking out Courtney behind the large desk. A man stands in front of it wearing a pair of dark, ratty jeans and a red hoodie. His hands are buried in the pockets of the black leather jacket he's got on over the hoodie, an unlit cigarette hanging between his lips, and he looks like he hasn't shaved in the last two days.

"Good morning," He tells Courtney, mostly out of politeness.

She smiles at him, "Morning. I didn't ask yesterday, but what do we call you around here? Richard? Mr. Grayson?"

"I prefer Dick, actually." He glances at the man, noticing the evaluating stare he's on the receiving end of.

"Alright, then. Dick, this is Jason Todd." Courtney introduces, "He's going to get you all set up before you head down to Zero level."

The man inclines his head, and Dick takes the chance to get a better look at him. Up close, Dick can tell he's probably younger by a few years. He has a small tuft of white in the line of his bangs, though Dick can't tell if it's dyed, and his eyes are a striking mix of deep blue and fluorescent green. He smells overwhelmingly like smoke and…exhaust fumes?

"'Sup, new guy?" Jason speaks with the cigarette still in his mouth, "You're the brat's new keeper, huh?"

"Uh, I guess so." Dick shrugs, wondering if Damian's reputation is like this with everybody.

Jason snorts, pushing off the desk. He mock-salutes Courtney before heading towards the hall with the elevators. Dick follows him, waving to Courtney as he leaves. When he catches up to Jason, the button has already been pressed and Jason is waiting for the doors to open.

"You were secret service, right?" Jason asks, glancing at Dick with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

"Yeah, for a little."

"Were you involved in any of the military AG experiments?"

It takes Dick a moment to sort out the acronym, "I heard about them, but I didn't have access to any. I wouldn't have wanted to."

Jason nods, "Best _not_ to mention that to the Zeroes."

"Right." Dick nods slowly, "So you're a guard for one of them?"

"Yep." The doors to the elevator open and Jason walks forward. He waits for Dick to get on before pointing to several buttons that are labeled by color rather than number. "Orange, cafeteria for workers. Green, training room. Red, disaster room. Yellow, science labs. Blue, security detail." That's the button he presses. "Every morning you have to go to blue to get your gun and communicator. B doesn't let you keep them until he knows he can trust you."

"B? You mean Bruce Wayne?"

"Yeah." Jason says shortly. "Guns are all automatic, always keep safety on. You follow?"

"I follow." Dick frowns, "Do we have much of a reason to use them?"

Jason pauses, "…save that question for later." He finally says. "As of now, there are only three Zeroes. There's a girl hanging on the brink of becoming one, and she'll be moved to our floor if it happens, but that means there are only three of _us_ right now."

Jason points, "You. Me. Kara. B's rules say we have to eat meals together, make sure the Zeroes spend at least ten minutes in the same room per day, and report any suspicious behavior to him immediately. That, though, will mostly be your problem. Damian's the only one with suspicious shit always happening."

"That's…_great_."

Jason barks out a laugh, "Yeah, he's a roller coaster on _good_ days. You're definitely in for a ride."

The elevator stop, doors opening to reveal the first bit of color Dick has seen in the building. The walls are painted a deep blue, floor lined with cherry hardwood. The people milling around this floor are all dressed in typical security guard outfits, and Jason steps out of the lift, leading Dick down the hall.

They come to a small room, filled only by the single table in the middle. Two handguns are laid out on separate pieces of cloth, two PDA-like devices next to them. Jason points, "That's yours. Kara's is on the left. Don't forget that, 'cause your PDA has all the info on _your_ 'charge' only."

Dick picks up the device, inspecting it briefly before slipping it into his back pocket. The gun comes with a standard holster that Dick is well-acquainted with from his police work, and he methodically puts it on, checks the safety, and slides the gun in the holster.

He glances at the table, "Where's yours?"

Jason lifts one side of his jacket to show the gun tucked in what appears to be a customized holster attached to the inside of the leather. "Like I said, after you've been here long enough, B lets you keep it."

"Then you've been here a while?" Dick starts as Jason turns, leaving the room. He shakes his head, jogging after him once more.

"Since I was fifteen," Jason replies. "Well, that's give or take. I've been _working_ here since I was seventeen, but I've known B longer than that, so I get all the cool toys."

As they near the elevators, the door open and a young woman steps off, dressed in a plaid shirt and denim shorts. Her blonde hair falls over her shoulders, and when she sees them, she waves at Jason.

"Kara." Jason informs Dick from the corner of his mouth. Louder, he says "Morning, Kent."

"Todd." She greets, glancing at Dick, "New guy." She nods to him, breezing past with nothing more to say.

Jason shrugs, "She's much more talkative once she gets caffeine in her system. Let's go. The Nest awaits."

:::

When Dick follows Jason off the elevator onto Zero level, he notes that the hallway has been significantly cleaned. Jason doesn't seem to like that. "Uh-oh."

"What?"

"Shit. You, brown door. Hang there for a minute. I have to check on something."

Jason makes his way down the hall, stopping before the door labeled 'Timothy'. Dick watches for a moment before following Jason's light orders. He lets the door close behind him, observing the break room. A circular table is placed in the center of the room, walls lined with a refrigerator and various other kitchen appliances. A television hangs in the corner; underneath, a full bookshelf. Unlike the rest of the hall, the walls are painted a relaxing cream, the floor made up of a dark wood.

Dick takes a seat at the table and waits.

A few moments pass before the door opens again, the woman from earlier walking in. Kara. She goes right for the espresso machine, setting it all up for morning coffee. Dick figures she's going to mostly ignore him, so he almost misses her question.

"Confused yet?"

He gives a short, nervous laugh, "A little."

Kara turns around once the machine starts to fill her cup. "It's to be expected. The hallway only gets cleaned when Tim, that's Jason's charge, has a fit. OCD."

"Oh." Dick nods, "Okay."

"Just so you know, Zeroes can't come in here." Kara gestures around, "So when you need a break, you _will_ get one."

The door opens again, and Jason walks in. He's followed closely by a thin, pale boy with black hair, blue eyes, and large white wings. Kara groans, "_Really_? Just render everything I said moot, why don't you? No offense, Tim."

The boy with the wings shrugs, one hand clasping the front of his white shirt as if it's a security blanket. Jason waves him to the chair across from Dick, heading to the refrigerator while Tim sits down, wings narrowly avoiding knocking against the back of the chair.

"I thought I told you to punch him back the next time he hit you." Jason says while digging around for food. "Getting mad and cleaning shit won't solve your problem."

"Neither will senseless violence." The boy, teenager really, protests. "He'll just hit harder."

"Please tell me we're not talking about Damian." Kara sighs, "I thought he stopped hitting."

"We were _sparring_, it was different."

"Still put _you_ in a bad mood." Jason points out, kicking the fridge closed and plopping in the seat next to Tim. He takes a bite of the apple he salvaged before tossing it to Tim. "This is Dick. He's Damian's new keeper."

Tim glances over at him, smiling slightly, "Hello. I'm Tim."

"He knows," Jason says.

"Hi," Dick replies anyway, "Richard. But I prefer Dick."

Tim nods, turning his attention back to Jason. "Just…don't get into it with him, please. It's our problem."

"If it's _your_ problem," Jason leans over, taking back his apple, "Then it's _my_ problem too."

"That's not how it works," Tim protests. Jason tosses him the apple again, and Dick feels largely like he's missing something. He jumps when a vibration shoots through his back pocket.

Dick fishes the PDA out from his pocket, bringing it into view. A simple message flashes across the screen. 'WUC'. Dick clears his throat, "What's WUC?"

"Wake up call," Kara replies, retrieving her mug, "They're all set for when you need to officially wake your charge up. Most of the time they're already up by that point, but it's your job to make sure they're getting ready for the day."

"So…I have to go…wake up Damian?"

Jason laughs, catching the apple when Tim tosses it back to him. By this point, it's little more than the core. "Eh-hem. Well, since today is your first, we're supposed to help you out." He glances at Kara, "But I'm not setting foot near the demon until he's been awake for at least an hour. Good luck, new guy."

Dick looks to Kara, who shrugs, "I have to make sure Steph is on task. Sorry."

"You two are horrible." Tim says, looking between them. "I'll help. Nobody deserves to wake Damian up by themselves on their _first_ day."

"He's probably already awake," Jason says loudly, "Just knock on his door and tell him to get ready."

Tim gets out of the chair, wings moving as if they're stretching. Dick wonders if it's a subconscious motion. He can't remember ever looking into it. "I'll make sure he's awake. We all have to eat breakfast together anyway. We'll meet you in the kitchen in a few."

Jason frowns, clearly disapproving as Tim leaves the room. He tosses what's left of the apple in the trashcan by the door. Standing, he fixes Dick a look, "Word to the wise, keep Damian away from Tim as much as possible. They don't like each other. Bad things happen. _Etcetera_."

Dick blinks, "I'll try my best?"

Jason nods, "Yeah. You will."

Kara frowns, "_Jason_!"

Jason shrugs, turning and leaving the room, presumably to follow Tim. Kara sighs, "Don't mind Jay's attitude about that. He and Tim have a…special kind of relationship."

"Special, or," Dick pauses, "_Special_?"

"Honestly?" Kara takes a sip, "I don't think anyone but them knows the answer to that." She walks around the table, patting Dick's shoulder, "Alright, new guy. You ready to meet Damian?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

Kara laughs, "Good answer, new guy. Good answer."


	3. Day Two

When Dick and Kara enter the kitchen, Dick is surprised by how…_warm_ it is. The walls are painted a neutral shade of tan, but the arrangement of the room is clustered in a way that feels like…well, _home_. There's even a window, though the sunny scenery outside can only be a painting. Or a hologram, considering the clouds appear to be moving.

Rather than a table in the room, there is a long, wide island counter with matching barstools set up around it. Jason is at the gas-lit stove, a carton of eggs open beside him, and Dick can hear the frying pan sizzle as Jason cracks an egg into it. Tim is at the island, back facing the door and wings hovering just above the ground. He's barefoot, feet resting on the supporting rods of the barstool.

Dick's charge, Damian, sits a few seats down from Tim on the other side of the island. His arms are folded across the surface, chin pillowed on them, eyes flicking between narrowing at Tim and eyeing the door. Kara moves around Dick, walking to the edge of the island, "Steph?"

"Getting ready," Tim supplies. "She'll be here soon."

Damian snorts, wings shifting behind him. His eyes move to Dick as he leans against the wall, guarded and studious.

"Alright." Jason shifts at the stove, twirling a wooden spoon in one hand. "Which of you has tests today?"

Tim thinks for a moment, "Damian."

Jason turns around to prod the back of Damian's head with the spoon, "Answer questions when they're about you, brat."

Damian twists, lashing out an ankle. Jason catches it with a wry grin, squeezing his foot before dropping it. Rather than lash out again, Damian flips him off. Jason's grin simply widens, and he blows a kiss to the irritated boy. Dick glances at Kara, hoping his confusion is evident. All Kara does is shrug in response, which doesn't help very much. He vaguely remembers Jason mentioning he's known Tim and Damian for a while. Dick has to wonder how long _a while_ is, because they're _acting_ like...

_Brothers_.

Dick moves to lean against the wall as the kitchen door is pushed open again and a girl enters the room. She, like the other Zeroes, is dressed in white and barefoot, blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail. She slides in the chair next to Tim before looking around, "What did I miss?" Her wings, which have a much shorter span than the boys', flutter softly when she speaks.

Damian folds his arms again, lowering his head back to its cradle, glowering at the girl. She glances behind her, noticing the new addition. "Oh! You must be the new guy!"

He smiles in greeting, "Dick."

She grins back, "I'm Steph, and I'm _very_ sorry you have to deal with Damian."

She avoids a sudden projectile, turning to Damian with a victorious grin. The next hits her square on the forehead. "Hey!"

"No throwing things." Jason drawls.

"_She's_ the one being insulting." Damian replies, tone implying that he doesn't actually care.

"How about," Tim begins, "everyone just keeps their hands to themselves, and does the same with their opinions?"

Kara whistles, "Whoa, there. What happened to you since you left the break room?"

"You were in the break room?" Stephanie demands, "Why don't _we_ get to go in the break room?"

"Because Tim is _quiet_ in the break room, which is what the room is for." Jason replies, turning off the gas. He shakes the scrambled eggs onto a large plate and sets it in the middle of the island, forcing Damian and Tim to both move a seat closer to reach.

"_Damian_," Jason takes a seat on the countertop behind the Zeroes, dropping the pan into the sink, "Why don't you introduce yourself to Dick?"

"You aren't my father, Todd." Damian mutters around a piece of egg.

"I just fed you."

Damian scowls, holding his fork like it's a weapon. His eyes move to Dick, but his voice level doesn't change. "My name is Damian Wayne, and until you give me a reason otherwise, I dislike you."

Dick blinks, not entirely sure what to say.

"Be nice." Jason warns, taking a lighter out of his pocket.

"No smoking." Tim doesn't even look up from his food.

Jason groans, shoving it back. "_Dammit_, Tim."

"You _could_ be nicer, Damian." Kara says.

"Why?" Damian's tone is lighter with her than Jason, "It's not like he'll last long. None of them ever do."

"I wonder why _that_ is?" Stephanie hums.

"You know," Dick frowns, finally speaking up, "I _am_ right here. And I've dealt with a lot more imposing people than you, so I don't think you'll be rid of me that soon."

Damian gives him an evaluating stare similar to the one from the day before. Finally, he sticks his fork into another piece of egg, looking back down at the counter, "We'll see about that."

* * *

For the most part, Jason sticks with Damian all day, letting Dick follow around Kara to learn the ropes without being accosted with insults at every turn, which is apparently something Damian will do.

At the end of the day, Jason takes him back to the blue floor where he leaves the gun and PDA. Courtney is gathering her things as he leaves the building, and he ends up waiting for her and they walk to the parking garage together. Dick also learns that apparently there's a betting pool against him, but at least Courtney is in his favor. According to her, if he could stand to be employed for President Luthor, he can stand Damian.

When he finally gets back to his tiny apartment it's well past when he would usually eat dinner and his phone is blinking at him with two missed calls and a text message instructing him to call back as soon as he's home. Dick heads straight for his bedroom, flopping down on his mattress and flipping open his cell phone. He dials without looking, bringing the phone to his ear slowly.

After two rings, the line picks up, "Hello?"

"Hey Babs," Dick sighs, "I'm home."

Barbara Gordon, one of two former loves of his life, hums into the receiver. "Good. Thanks for calling. I needed to talk to you about something."

"Is it that private gig again?" Dick sighs, "Babs, I _told_ you, I'm done with field work."

"Just _listen_, Dick." Barbara says, "I'm not asking you to come down here this second."

"Okay," Dick rolls over to toe his shoes off, kicking them towards the far wall of the room.

"My clientele is really picking up. I've got Dinah and Helena here to help, but if things continue the way they are, we'll have too many cases and not enough investigators. You were a good cop, and a decent SS member. Just…keep in mind that you have _options_. I'm sure Bruce Wayne _pays well_, but you'll get bored being a security guard."

Dick laughs, "A _decent_ SS member? _Thanks_."

Barbara doesn't react; a testament to just how busy she actually is.

"Well, that's the thing," He continues, now feeling slightly awkward. "I'm _not _actually a security guard."

"Then what _are_ you?" He can hear the rustling of papers in the background, and Dick wonders how many cases she's trying to work on at once.

"I'm basically babysitting his son."

The noise pauses, "_Babysitter_?"

"Yeah." Dick sighs. "His kid has the Angel Virus. Erm, _Gene_. Anyway, his last _keeper_ quit or something so he needed a new one."

"Dick, Dick, Dick," Barbara sighs. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

"I know," Dick laughs, "I just…I'll play it by ear, I suppose. It's good to hear your voice, Babs. I _will_ keep your offer in mind; promise."

"You too," Barbara replies sincerely. "And you'd _better_. I wouldn't want anyone but you on my team for this, Dick."

"I know." He smiles, "I remember the team we made, Babs."

"And that was _before_ we were sleeping together, mind you." Barbara laughs. "I've got to go. I think I found a lead, here. Take care, don't sleep with any of your partners, and you should come out okay."

"_Gee_, thanks. I _can_ keep it in my pants."

Barbara laughs at him and hangs up.

Things go better the next morning.

Dick arrives at the Institute, chats with Courtney (she looks in need of a good conversation, really) until Kara walks through the doors, and proceeds to follow the blonde up to the security floor, then down to the Nest.

The hall is messy once more, which is a good thing if Dick remembers right.

When they enter the break room, Jason is lounging at the table with an untouched mug of coffee sitting before him, messing with his PDA. Kara sits across from him, swiping the drink and taking a sip, "Good morning."

Jason grunts, "Late night. Tim has tests today."

"Steph doesn't. Does Damian?"

Jason shakes his head, "B has gone back to one a day after the sparring incident last week."

"So," Dick tilts his head, joining the conversation, "What do we do all day if there's no testing?"

"They have a basic schedule. Damian knows what he should be doing, and as long as Steph and Tim leave him alone he'll do it. You really only need to worry about waking him up and following him around," Jason yawns. "And _not_ punching him when he makes you feel like punching him."

"Will he do that often?" Dick asks dryly.

Jason cocks his head as the pager attached to Dick's waistband starts to go off. "Well. Day two on the job. Wake him up and find out."


End file.
